A cold soul crying frozen tears, black feathers, black feathers above white snow. The Lamppost's hollow tracts of pale electric light, dots of coal-fed sun-envy, connect with the sharp raven claws that tear at the day's skin.
Now fast falling the drop, my stomac weightless, a tiny hole turns into a muddy ditch. There, in it
silence. Must want to not be there, must want to not stay there long enough for chilled bones to grow and spawn lifeless images turning into calcium.
Must crawl out, must shake it all off, must spread wings and fly up hign enough to see sparks on the horizon must wipe the frost from the glass and take in the new day rising, only rising.
Must crawl out, must shake it all off, must spread wings and fly up hign enough to see sparks on the horizon must wipe the frost from the glass and take in the new day rising, only rising.
- - -
Ingen kommentarer:
Send en kommentar